


The Games We Play

by Kadira



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-07
Updated: 2007-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last of the Time Lords and their never-ending game</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Utopia, slight spoilers for the movie, Castrovalva and maybe a few other classic episodes

**I.**

_"Use my name!"_

_"Master."_

_"End of the universe! Have fun! Bye bye!"_

The Doctor stands rooted to his spot, looking at the empty space where mere moments ago his TARDIS was.

Can't be. A nightmare, much like the time (weeks, months, years, forever ago) after the time war. This isn't happening. Not here, not now. Never. He is the last one. This is just a feverish hallucination. Maybe he is sick. Not that it's likely, but it makes just as much sense as this 'end of the universe, meet your old friend-foe-whatever again, in the romantic setting of dead stars and cannibals'.

He blinks, but nothing changes. The spot is still empty and behind him he can still hear the growling and the screams and Martha and Jack...

Martha and Jack!

A shudder runs through his body, shakes off the paralysis and allows him to turn around.

Something to focus on, something to do. He needs to get them out of here. Needs to keep them alive (or, in Jack's case - in one piece).

Save them! No more deaths! Not here, not if he can prevent it. Later, he can think and discover whether all that really happened, or if he's indeed just dreaming and will wake up any moment to the smell of tea and new plans for more adventures.

But first he needs to escape with them. Then he can think about the rest.

**II.**

He sits behind his desk, arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied grin on his lips. That went well enough, he thinks. One step after the other. Humanity is still as easy to manipulate as ever.

From the wall his own face grins at him.

Vote Saxon!

Oh yes, do that, humans. And doom yourself. You've always been good at that.

It's part of the fun of playing with them, something _he_ with all his compassion and sympathy for the human race has never understood.

Humans are toys for the likes of them. Temporary playthings to pass some time, nothing more. How could such a brilliant mind (in fact, now indeed the only one in existence rivalling his own) not see that? They are Time Lords and not some babysitters for humans!

But that has always been his problem, hasn't it?

The Master stands up and goes over to the cupboard. He smiles fleetingly at the jar in there, which contains the hand. The _Doctor_ 's hand, to be exact.

What did that immortal human (Jack, he remembers his name) call it? A Doctor Detector, yes. It's quiet now, but he will see soon enough if it works, when the Doctor shows up here. And there is no question that he will. It's just a matter of _when_.

The Doctor will be back. It's the only thing he's as sure about as that he and the Doctor are the last of the Time Lords (not that he'll miss the others, those meddling fools who were stuck in their lives instead of being really great).

It takes a lot to kill their kind, but even more to kill the Doctor. The Master knows that better than anyone else. If there's such a thing, then the Doctor is the epitome of a true immortal, in every sense of the word, maybe more so than the Master. And knowing the Doctor, he has not only managed to save himself, but his companions as well.

And he looks forward to meeting him again. Only this time he will be prepared. For everything. The stupid human is gone, has made way for the Master. He is back and the game between the two of them, now the last of the Time Lords, can start again. A game they will both survive, because that's just how it is.

They need each other, whether they like it or not.

Though, it still does somehow surprise him that they went on so well before he opened the watch. He'd like to think it was the stupid, human fool he was then, but a part of him knows better. That was like before, many eternities ago, when they were still on Gallifrey.

For a moment he wonders if the other will remember that time as well, when they weren't Doctor and Master yet, but just students at the Academy, sometimes friends, sometimes opponents, and always more than that. No, he'd probably rather remember the times after that - Traken, Castrovalva, or maybe their last meeting -- he sneers at the thought of that disaster -- in San Francisco.

"Use my name", he remembers saying. He _needed_ to hear it from the other's lips, from the mouth of his eternal foe and his eternal companion, needed to hear it as a proof that he was indeed alive and once more back into _existence_.

_"Master."_

Never has a word sounded sweeter.

The Doctor is his, just as much as he is the Doctor's. Together or against each other, it doesn't really matter. They belong together; they are one, destined to be together. And this time the Doctor will be too late. He won't be able to stop his plans anymore. He will have no other choice than to take and to accept, to join or at least to watch.

That is the nature of their game. Each is the other's only companion, his only home. Now quite literally. The last two of the Time Lords. He can't imagine anyone more worthy of survival than the two of them.

He lets his hand hover over the jar and closes his eyes for a moment. Yes, even with a universe between them, he can feel the Doctor. And soon, they will meet again.

But until then he has other plans, like an election to win.

**III.**

Even before the liquid in the jar begins to bubble, he can feel the other's presence. He closes his eyes and showers in it, lets it wash over him, allows himself to bath in the familiarity of it.

Their kind could always sense each other if they allowed it, but he still thinks that the Doctor's presence is different, somehow more vivid, than that of all the other Time Lords. It is something he discovered when they were in the Academy and it hasn't changed since then. He wonders if it's the same way for the Doctor, if he can distinguish the Master just as easily from the flock.

He leans back in the chair, just opposite of the cupboard, and crosses his arms over his chest. He closes his eyes and, for the first time since his return, opens his mind, doesn't bother to hide his presence anymore. There's no need for it now. The Doctor knows that he lives and very soon he will know where to find him as well. It's not as if he keeps a low profile. And why should he? The Master has never hidden before and he certainly won't start now.

"So you have arrived at last," he tells the twitching hand, after opening his eyes again. "Took you long enough. I almost started to worry. After all, if someone is going to kill you, it should be me and nobody else."

"I hope you're not talking about me?"

He manages to hide his surprise well enough as the door suddenly opens and his wife stands in the doorway. He smiles at her. "Of course not, why should I?" Not as long as she plays by his rules (and he has made sure about that) and proves to be useful at least. "Or do I have a reason to do so?" he asks, his voice (quite unintentionally) sharper than before.

"Oh, darling, I was just joking", she says, then steps around the desk and throws her arms around his neck. He responds to her kiss, but then pushes her aside.

"Good to know. I would hate to lose you so soon. Why are you here?"

She frowns a bit, but then smiles again. "To tell you that my parents invited us for dinner tonight after your speech! My mother just called me and told me that. I was right around the corner, so I thought I'd see my wonderful husband and tell him the news instead of just calling."

The Master grimaces inwardly. This here has taken quite a bit getting used to. It is bad enough that he has to come into such close contact with humans, but even worse are the other things that come with it, like his wife's family. He would be perfectly content just playing the politician.

"That's wonderful, Lucy. But I'm still very busy, so if you don't mind..."

"Oh, darling, don't be so cold." Then she looks away from him and into the cupboard.

"What is that?" she says, and walks towards it. "A hand? In a jar? Why do you keep something like that?" she asks, disgusted.

He sighs. "In memory of an old acquaintance," he tells her truthfully. "It tells me if he's close."

"Really?"

"Don't touch it!" he snaps when she reaches out with her hand.

"Why not?"

"Because nobody but me gets to touch it," he says, then gets up as well and stands beside her. "Look at me," he orders her. "You'll not ask me again about such things. You'll forget what you saw here. You will not come here anymore unless I ask you to do so. You'll obey me."

"I will obey you," she says. Her gaze is blank for a moment longer, then life returns to her eyes. "So will I see you this afternoon or first during your speech?" she asks then, not paying any more attention to the cupboard and its contents.

He smiles, satisfied. Nothing like having proven that he's once more whole, once more who he was instead of a stupid human, caught in a human body, filled with all its human weaknesses.

"First in the hall. I still have to go through my speech and make a few phone calls."

"All right then, though I don't think that you need that. You'll be wonderful as always, darling. The people here eat out of your hands."

Just as it should be, he thinks as he kisses her goodbye and watches her go. When the door has closed after her, he turns his attention once more to the jar. "I wonder how long it will take you to find me here, Doctor. But be assured, I look forward to meeting you again very soon," he says, and then closes the door before he returns to his desk.

**IV.**

He keeps his face impassive when he looks at the stage, his eyes fixed on the Master and the pretty blonde woman beside him. His wife, Mrs. Lucy Saxon. He'd almost laughed at the thought of the Master getting married and settling down. It was such a ridiculous idea. But of course, it fit into the Grande Scheme.

Unfortunately, none of those present here (and god, there are a lot of people, all eagerly waiting for their possible future Prime Minister to speak to them) has any idea just whom they would be electing. He sincerely doubts that even Lucy Saxon has the faintest idea who her husband really is. For her he is probably just a promising politician who happens to have the right connections and the right looks (and he can't disagree with the latter).

But that was the Master, never leaving anything to chance. Everything was always planned, from the beginning to the end. Though, turning politician was definitely something new. Ingenious, in fact, the Doctor has to admit, if rather grudgingly. Because how can you control people better than by becoming their Prime Minister?

But the Master has forgotten one important fact. The very same thing he told Martha and Jack before his world came crushing done on him - mankind was indomitable and especially politicians could experience a very rough landing if they displeased the people they had sworn to serve, no matter how well they talked or what they tried.

Mister Saxon will be no exception, though it would be much better for Great Britain if he never gets into power. The Doctor has no doubt about that.

Something inside the Doctor knots tightly together as he remembers Malcassairo.

He knew it the same moment the door had closed and the future kind had entered. Knew it then with a certainty that hit him with the force of a thousand times. He still had held on, had tried to ignore it, and had _hoped_. Of all possible opportunities, it had to be _him_ , the one he had shared more with than any other Time Lord, his eternal (and best) foe. No, not eternal. Just for a very, very long time. And not always a foe either. There were enough moments in time when things hadn't looked so bleak between them.

The Doctor suppresses a shudder and lets the voices in the hall wash over him, allows the noise to drain out the echo of the shock and the horror he had felt then.

It's strange when even your oldest enemy feels less wrong than someone like Jack, who shouldn't exist to start with. An interesting if rather unpleasant predicament for a Time Lord. Just like the whole situation.

Why did it have to be him? Why the wrong Time Lord? Why the one who always manages to bring out the worst in him? The one that pushes all his buttons? And what is he supposed to do about it?

_"I'm begging you! Everything's changed. It's only the two of us, we're the only ones left. Just let me in!"_

He had sounded desperate, maybe even pathetic, but he had meant it. It was their chance for a second try, without all the baggage that had made their life so difficult in the past, without the killings, without the hate, without... everything.

Would it have changed anything, if he could have sat down and talked with Professor Yana before he'd opened the watch? He doesn't know, but it might have been worth a try, especially since they got along well enough.

More than that, the Doctor had _liked_ the Professor, had felt some kind of kinship to him, which he doesn't feel too often. Now he knows why. A part of him has spoken to the captured Time Lord, to the few remains that still resided in the Professor's body. But he didn't know it then. Otherwise he would never have been so careless, would never have left the Professor out of his sight, much less given him free access to his TARDIS or talked so openly to Jack when he knew that the others were listening to them.

Or so he likes to think. He ignores the small voice in the back of his mind that asks him if that is really true.

_"Use my name!"_

_"Master."_

He is certain that the other did that on purpose, to make the situation more real, more horrifying. It worked well enough. Before that the horror had been abstract, something that couldn't possible be true, but this short exchange, this bit, this voicing it, had made it tangible, realer than he ever wanted for it to be.

He remembers Martha saying, "I know that voice, Doctor," once they had barricaded the door and he was fixing Jack's Vortex Manipulator (after all, a spacehopper was better than no travelling device at all). "It's Saxon. The politician. A no-name before he entered politics. Everybody wondered about that at the time, but then he swept them all off their feet and now he's going for Prime Minister. Hold on," she said then, "Why would one of you people bother with our politics? And why did he hide here?"

The Doctor had no answer to either question. He still doesn't.

**V.**

"Where are you going, Doctor?" he hears Martha inquire.

"Just catching up with national politics and a really old acquaintance," the Doctor says, already crossing the floor of the town hall.

"But he's dangerous, Doctor!"

"Not anymore than I can be. Don't worry, Martha, I'll be back in a moment. Go and catch up with your family, why don't you?" he says just as Saxon comes down the stairs, holding his wife at her arm and grinning as if the world were his already. Maybe it is, at least Britain, if the reaction of the audience is anything to go by.

"Congratulations, Mister Saxon. Why didn't you tell me you had plans to get married?" He greets the Master with his brightest smile once he is close enough that the other can hear him. He takes immense delight in the few seconds the Master needs to compose himself. Whatever he expected, this obviously wasn't it and taking the Master by surprise is always a pleasure.

"My dear Doctor, such a surprise to see you. I heard that you were busy at that time, something like being stuck at the end of the universe, trying to save mankind, as usual." Then he turns to his wife. "Will you please excuse us, my dear? The Doctor and I have some things to talk about." After a moment in which it looks as if she would protest, she nods, then kisses him on the cheek and goes down the stairs.

**VI.**

Being alone here with this almost stranger, whom he knows better than anyone else, and who knows him just as well, is peculiar. Yet, there's nothing to do about it. It had to come to this, no matter how much the Doctor dreaded it.

(Though that isn't entirely true either, is it?)

"You got yourself a nice wife. But that's a must when you go into politics, isn't it? What next, children to complete the image of the perfect politician?" the Doctor asks, following the other Time Lord up the stairs, where they will be alone.

"Why, Doctor, do I sense jealousy?"

The Doctor laughs. "Certainly not." Even _if_ he had a reason to be jealous, even _if_ the Master weren't who he was, a human would hardly be real competition, no matter how interesting they were.

"You don't sound too sure about that," the Master says, a knowing smile playing over his lips. "Is that why you came here?" he asks, taking a step closer to the Doctor.

The Doctor's eyes narrow. "Certainly not. Did you really think I'd let you get away with stealing my TARDIS?" – his _home_ , the only one he's still left! – "And with leaving me on this godforsaken planet?"

"I knew you would find a way out. You are a survivor. We are just the same in that regard."

"We are nothing alike," the Doctor insists, voice hard.

"If it makes you feel better thinking that - be my guest. I never realized that you really liked the art of self-deception, though. But maybe it's the new regeneration. Nice body, by the way. My favourite so far. The last wasn't too bad either, but you seemed a bit... stiff. And what do you want to do now? Kill me?" For a moment he looks at the Doctor, assessing him, then he shakes his head. "No, you won't do that."

"You know nothing about me if you really believe that. You left me to die, so why shouldn't I just do the same?" the Doctor says, his hand reaching in his coat for the sonic screwdriver. Not that it would do much harm, but he feels better knowing that it is there.

"I knew you wouldn't die. As for you, no, you are not a killer. You never were."

"Maybe not, but time changes people and we are no exception in that regard."

No second chances anymore. Much less hundreds. It costs too much, especially when the Master is involved. Too many lives, and even more important, too much of himself. Nothing is worth this and he isn't the same anymore that he was... then. He isn't even the same as he was before or after the time war. He has changed. For the better or worse is still open for debate and certainly nothing he cares to ponder further. Now he just _is_ , the not-quite-last of his kind, struggling and trying to do the right thing.

"Right," the Master says and leans against one of the pillars in the abandoned hallway, arms crossed over his chest. "I've heard about that. The Oncoming Storm. Nice name. No mercy, no second chances. The Racnoss already had the pleasure to experience it themselves, so I have heard. Not that anyone will miss them, but what happened to the pacifist? Did he finally die along with Gallifrey and made room for a Time Lord with a knack for genocide? One genocide every incarnation and a few attempted ones? Or would you rather leave the others to your friends, like the esteemed Rose Tyler?"

In the first moment, the Doctor feels as if he has been hit, very hard, where it hurts most. In the next instant, anger rises. The Master either decides to ignore it or just doesn't see it, because he continues, "I'm still sure you won't kill me. You couldn't do it in the past and you won't do it now, certainly not now that we two are the only ones left. It would make the universe a very lonely place, even for the likes of us, the renegades. And--"

Before he can continue, the Doctor is in front of him, pressing him against the cold stone. "Do.Not.Tempt.Me," he says, the screwdriver in his hand, pointing it at the other Time Lord. "You have no idea what I'm thinking or doing. I survived so far alone and I will continue to do so. I can assure you, my life was much more peaceful when you were still dead!" he hisses.

"That might hurt, if you meant it, Doctor," the Master says, with that annoying smirk that seems to survive every regeneration on his lips. "Tell yourself and your friends whatever you want, but don't forget that I know you better than anyone else. You never wanted to see me dead. You could never bring yourself to really kill me, not even when our relationship was at its worst. And you know why that is? Because you need me. You need me to know that you're still alive and you need me to make you feel better about what you are doing, because what does a small genocide mean, compared to what I did? And you know why else you need me? To make your life interesting. You can claim that your life was more peaceful when I was not there, but it was also much more boring, wasn't it?"

The Doctor presses his lips together, forces himself to calm down before he speaks again. "Don't even try it. You have no idea what I'm feeling," he says, voice low and calm and dangerous. He is driven by the urge not to think about anything but the worst that happened -- the betrayals, the disgust, the fear -- because he can't allow himself to remember any of the other things. Not here and not now.

"No? Then tell me that you don't remember the Academy or all the other times. That you didn't enjoy our games or at the very least the rest, Doctor." The Master looks at him, eyes gleaming with excitement and challenge and _knowing_ , before he pushes the Doctor slightly away, then straightens up once more.

"Doctor?"

Martha!

"Your human pet is waiting for you, Doctor," the Master says. "Martha Jones, isn't it? I must say, she's quite interesting. But tell me, can she give you what you really want? Can she ease the loneliness you wear so openly?" he asks.

Then, before the Doctor can really react, the Master leans forward, close enough that the Doctor can feel his breath on his face and _hear_ the two heartbeats. "Can she give you what we shared?" And then his lips are on the Doctor's, warm and rough, even when they are not quite touching, a mere fleeting contact, at once strange and familiar, causing an explosion of the most different emotions within the Doctor.

Before he can recover from that, there's a probe against his mind and he can feel the other Time Lord in him, looking, searching. For the barest moment, the other has access to his thoughts and feelings, drags up images and emotions of the past, memories he has tried so hard to suppress.

With a snarl, the Doctor shuts the other Time Lord out and slams him against the pillar, holds him there. "I'm not going to play your games anymore, _Master_ ," he says, making the title sound like the curse it is.

And then, before he can stop himself, he leans forward and this time their lips meet, rough and hard, maybe bruising, but he couldn't care less.

When he steps back, just as the door opens, they are both out of breath, though the Doctor blames it on the fury within him, because it can't be anything else. Certainly not! The Master licks over his lips. "I must say, I quite like the way your new regeneration doesn't play," he says. "In fact, this new you is quite appealing. On many levels, my dear Doctor."

"Doctor, are you all right?"

He can feel the emotions rage within him, all of them familiar, none of them welcome. "This is not your game," he hisses under his breath. "If you take one step out of line, I will be there and then I'll kill you."

"Of course, Doctor. Whatever you say." There's the mocking tone again, the same that has driven him up the wall since he heard it first in the Academy so very long ago. The hand on his cheek, which he first notices now, seems to burn into his skin with its coolness, leaving some invisible mark there. "You are mine, Doctor. We are each other's, the only thing that we have left in the whole, wide universe. You know it. Or maybe it's that what annoys you most?"

The Doctor bites back any possible comment and turns around to Martha. "Let's go," he tells her and walks towards the door, driven by the urge to get out of here _now_.

"Doctor." He comes to a hold, but doesn't turn around. "If you come to my office tomorrow and if you ask really nicely, maybe I'll tell you where your TARDIS is."

The Doctor grabs Martha's arm when he sees that she's about to turn around, probably to give the Master a piece of her mind, and steers her away. This is between the Master and himself, and he will do his best to keep Martha out of it.

"It was my pleasure, Doctor, Martha Jones." The laugh echoes through the empty corridors and even after they've left the building, it resounds in the Doctor's ears, mocking and familiar.

**VII.**

He hadn't really expected for the Doctor to show up. In the end, his fellow Time Lord is very predictable in all his unpredictability. It was the same in the past, especially when it came to them.

But he has to admit that there are some things he hadn't quite expected, not even after all the rumours he has heard since his return. And these discoveries are most intriguing.

The Doctor is breaking down, and he wonders for how long he has done it already, how vast the cracks are, if they're still reparable or if they are of the kind that will just absorb you in the end and burn you, along with those who have dared to get too close to you.

The contact between them hasn't lasted nearly long enough to assess every layer of the Doctor, but even so he has felt the darkness within him, which not only fills the cracks, but is slowly spilling out of them.

And such a delicious darkness, capable of things he has never thought possible, certainly not with the other Time Lord. Darkness and aggressiveness. The Doctor's previous regenerations were always calmer (if not less dangerous) and had waited for him to do the first step, but this one is on the edge, able to change his mood within mere moments. One instant he could be your best friend, the next your worst enemy.

He remembers the talk he overheard between the Doctor and Jack. That time he had been too distracted by the urge to be free again to pay much attention to it, but in the end it was another proof of the unfamiliar, if rather delightful instability of this particular regeneration of the Doctor. He doesn't believe that any of the other reincarnations could have done the same (the ones he has met at least), leaving a companion behind just because they went against the sensibilities of a Time Lord.

It is definitely a change from the past. This Doctor is dark and dangerous. A really worthy opponent now. It will be an excellent challenge. One that he will win.

He has no doubt about that, because woven within the darkness were strands of other emotions. Even in the short moment he had before the other closed off again, he has seen it, fragile, yet there. The overwhelming loneliness, now even stronger than before, but also traces (deeply hidden, of course) of desire and longing. And of hope. Even now that he knows who the other Time Lord is, the dear Doctor can't bring himself to stop that particular emotion, no matter how ridiculous it seems considering their history.

Not that he complains. It just adds to the interesting mix of the Doctor's new regeneration, to the challenge and the excitement.

"Mister Saxon?"

"Come in," he tells his secretary.

"Sir, I called Miss Francine Jones and she was most eager to meet you. She will be here in an hour."

"Excellent. She will do as I say?"

"As always, sir. She won't tell anybody of your meeting."

The Master nods.

"Though, sir, if you don't mind me asking, why do you pay so much attention to her? Why is she so important? I don't understand..." he says, hesitant and confused.

"And that my dear Geoffrey is the reason that I'm about to become Prime Minister and you are my secretary. If you want to advance in the field of politics, you have to make the most unlikely allies." His secretary nods reverently, drinking in every word he says. As always. And as always he won't remember anything anymore once he leaves the room. As much as he takes delight in his worshipping, the human is too... human to be trusted with any kind of information regarding his boss. "And you have to keep those allies for as long as they are of use to you. Take everything they offer, then dispose of them."

"Yes, sir, certainly sir, but why would you dispose of an ally and how? Discrediting them?" The boy has certain potential, the Master has to give him that. He is just lacking in imagination. And a backbone.

"Because you wouldn't want them to be a threat to your power once you've gained it, would you?" Geoffrey nods. "And you don't want to share the ultimate power once you have established your dominance and your reign, do you?" The nod is more hesitant this time. "So to prevent them from interfering with your power, you'll have to get rid off them. Permanently, preferably." His secretary has gone pale by those last words and the Master can't quite suppress a laugh.

"So, you want to kill Miss Jones? But she didn't do anything, she--" He stops there, helpless in the terror of what he has just heard. The Master smiles. He enjoys these games with the man immensely. Again and again.

"No. She's still far too useful. So don't worry, Geoffrey."

His secretary stares at him, eyes wide, then he hastily nods. For a moment longer the Master allows himself to bath in the fear the young man radiates, then he says, "Look at me, Geoffrey. You'll forget everything I just told you. You won't remember anything of our conversation; only that Miss Jones will come later, to help me with our election campaign. You'll obey me."

Of course he would. Humans were so easy to manipulate and to control. There were a very few that stood out, but most of them clung to his words like a drowning man to a lifebelt. Especially Geoffrey now, who's only too willing to have something that would erase the terror of what his boss just told him.

"I shall obey," Geoffrey says without hesitation, then, once life returns to his eyes, smiles at him brightly. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"Yes, you can call my wife and tell her that we have to postpone our plans for this evening. And send her a few flowers. You know, of the kind women like."

"Roses, sir?"

"Yes, that should do." Flowers and women worked wonders. That was something he learned very early during his stay on earth and Lucy was no exception. Presents as well, but one shouldn't overdo it, because then women suspected the worst and accused one of all kind of ridiculous things, which again was exhausting and rather annoying, even for him.

More than once since he approached his wife, the Master has wondered how the Doctor deals with it and just how anyone could willingly take such exhausting creatures as companions. Willingly _and_ repeatedly. He has no other choice. Being married is mandatory in this field, at least if you want to advance, but the Doctor had done it right from the beginning. Maybe he should just ask him when they would meet again...

But first there's something else to take care of. There are companions to be separated from the Doctor, starting with Martha Jones. The girl won't be much of a problem. He's pretty sure about that. After all, Martha Jones is human and so has parents, mainly a very worried mother, who will only be too happy to assist him once he has talked to her. It shouldn't even take any further help from his side. Humans are funny in that regard. You could do almost anything to them and they would follow like lambs to the slaughterhouse, yet touch their offspring and they would be ready to kill you.

So, soon enough Martha Jones will just be another human in the vast collection of the Doctor's past companions, all but forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**VIII.**

"What are you trying to do?" the Doctor demands, as soon as he is inside the office, the secretary as well as two security men on his heels. 

"Sir, I apologize. This is John Smith. He demands to see you. I'm really sorry, but he didn't want to listen when I told him that you don't have time." 

The two security men push the secretary aside and grab the Doctor, before he can reach the desk.

"It's all right, Geoffrey. My friend can sometimes be a bit over-enthusiastic and is then hard to stop," the Master says, smiling. "Though, I have to admit that I'm very flattered, my dear Mister Smith. After you so rudely refused my earlier invitation, I hadn't expected you to show up here so soon and so willingly. Geoffrey, be so nice and bring us tea, will you?" he says, his eyes still fixed on the Doctor. 

"Of course, sir, immediately."

The Master nods at the two security men, who immediately proceed to search his visitor. The Doctor hides a grimace. "Is that really necessary?" he asks, voice tight. 

"In my position? Oh yes. You would be surprised at the risk that is involved in being a politician nowadays," he says, yet there's a smirk, showing that he enjoys the situation more than he should, certainly much more than the Doctor. 

"Sir, that's all we found," the bigger one of the two men finally says and waves with the sonic screwdriver. 

"You can leave that with me and then go. Thank you." He sits down, motioning for the Doctor to do the same. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? What do you want?" 

"Oh, a lot of things. Among them that you just vanish, but you are not going to do me that favour, are you?" the Doctor asks and sits down. 

"No. I can't do that, I'm afraid. Not even for you. I have an election to win and then a country to run." 

In the first moment he really looks like a politician, one who intends to do the best for the country, which gives the whole situation something very surreal. The Doctor shakes his head once, tries to clear his mind. "You and running a country. I'm sure you meant to say _ruining_ a country. Or is it rather the whole world?" 

"I should probably be flattered that you think so highly of me, but --" 

"That was not a compliment, but I'm sure you are aware of that." 

"Sometimes you are no fun, Doctor. So, what do you want then?" 

"Martha Jones. Leave her alone." 

The Doctor doesn't believe the innocent-puzzled look for one moment. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about. I did nothing to your Martha Jones. I already have a wife and I can assure you that she keeps me busy enough." 

"What did you tell her mother?" 

"Just the truth about you." The Master smirks, obviously very pleased with himself. "I advised Miss Jones that it would be much safer for her daughter, if she would stay away from you. You have a talent to get people into the most bizarre situations. Not even you can disagree with me on that." 

"And since when do you care so much for humans?" the Doctor asks, firmly intending not to take the obvious bait, no matter if the Master is right or not, because doing so would mean that they were playing again and he has no intention of repeating the past. In any way. 

"She is a citizen of the country I have plans to rule. That is enough reason. As far as I understood it, the wellbeing of the people is one of the most glorious goals for a politician. At least --" 

The Doctor can't suppress a groan. "Quit that, will you. Your speeches might have an effect on humans, but not on me." 

"At least during the election campaign," the Master continues, completely ignoring him. "And so far the people of this country seem to believe that I have their best interest in mind." 

The Doctor shakes his head, resigned. "Just leave her alone, will you? And Jack as well. They have nothing to do with this." 

"And what exactly is _this_ , my dear Doctor?" 

There's the mocking-teasing tone again, and he hates it just as much as in the past. It was never a game he wanted to play and he will do his damn best not to get pulled back into it now. The situation is complicated enough as it is. "I liked your alter ego better. Professor Yana was much more agreeable." And far less irritating. 

"I don't believe you." 

"You should", he says just as the door opens and the secretary enters with the tea. 

"Where's my TARDIS?" he asks when the door closes again, changing the topic effectively. Or so he hopes, because there are certain areas he is not willing to go into. 

"No, Doctor. _My_ TARDIS." 

"No, _my_ TARDIS, which you _stole_. Just in case you forgot about the end of the universe, where you left me stranded." 

"True enough. But I can hardly return it to you, can I? How am I supposed to move around without one?" 

"Does the future Prime Minister of Great Britain need to do that? I can imagine that it would look rather bad if you suddenly vanished now. Or do you want to go on a vacation with your wife? It would certainly allow you to play some more with her mind afterwards." 

The Master looks at him, eyes narrowed. "What do you know?" 

This time, the Doctor smiles. "I saw her the other day when I came by your house. She remembered that I was a doctor and asked a few questions, because she is afraid that she's losing her mind. She is suffering from sporadic memory loss, you see." He relishes the brief frown that darkens the Master's features. "Of course, I had to do my duty as a doctor and examined her. Not so surprisingly, I discovered that her husband got much closer to her than most humans would be able to do. But she is not my concern. Not as long as you stay away from Martha and Jack. And your lovely wife should stay alive as well, of course. It would also help, if there were no more unexplainable accidents in the ranks of your opponents." 

"Are you accusing the future Prime Minister of Great Britain of using unfair methods?" the Master asks, not looking all that annoyed, or even unhappy. "Maybe you haven't changed all that much after all, Doctor. Very well, your little friends are safe for now. The same for my wife. I still need her after all. But you can hardly blame me if my fellow politicians are unable to stir a car or to do the most basic things, can you? I believe it's called natural selection." 

"Then you should do your best to ensure that I can't see a connection between their accidents and you. Otherwise, your political career might be over before Election Day has arrived," the Doctor says, voice hard. He doesn't wait for an answer, since he knows he won't get one anyway. But he knows that Martha and Jack will be safe, at least for the time being. It will do, for now. It _has_ to do. 

"Anything else I can do for you, Doctor?" 

"My TARDIS. I want it back. Unlike you, I have no intention to marry and to settle down," he says, allowing the light smirk to be heard in his voice. 

"You have far too much fun with that, don't you? Does it mean you have plans to leave very soon again?" There's a nuance in the other's voice, which the Doctor refuses to interpret. 

"I didn't say that." 

For a moment the Master looks tense, but then he relaxes again and leans back. "You can't change this here, you know that, right? It happened already and there's nothing you can do about it." 

"You are not the only Time Lord in the room," the Doctor says. "I know very well what I can do and what I can't do." That is one of the few things the Master doesn't need to worry about. Not even getting rid of him is worth the risk of opening the rift once more. And there is still the fact that he isn't even sure yet if he wants to be rid of him. Sure, he'd have preferred a different starting point, but the other is still a fellow Time Lord. More than that, they were friends at some point (and not just that, a highly unwelcome voice added). 

"Of course not," the Master says. "But I need to make sure about a few things as well. After all, deep down, we are all politicians, looking for a backdoor to change things according to our wishes." 

"No, you are the only one here who would do that. Now, where is she?" 

The Master looks at him for a moment longer, his gaze unreadable and a tad unsettling. Then he says, "Ask me nicely." 

"The last time I asked you _nicely_ , you decided to leave me at the end of the universe. So I don't see much of a reason to do it again." 

"Can you blame me for that? I'd been living as a human for quite a long time and as you know very well, humans are not the most rational beings and tend to overreact in many situations." 

"Ah, but you weren't human anymore then." 

"True enough. But you should know how it feels when you're suddenly free again." At the Doctor's sharp gaze, the Master laughs. "You hear quite a lot of things when you travel." 

"No doubt about that," the Doctor mutters. "You still refused to even listen to me. You never gave me a chance." 

"A chance for what? The first thing you said was that I should keep the watch closed!" 

"Because I wanted to explain everything to you first." 

"For how long have you known I was there?" An accusation veiled in a question. 

"I didn't. First after Martha told me that she saw the watch," the Doctor says. 

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" 

"It's the truth. For the longest time I was sure I was the only one who survived the time war. And even then I didn't know right away it was you. But the locked door and the future kind hunting us gave you away," the Doctor says with a wry smile. It's true enough. He hadn't known before that. Feared yes, but not known. 

"What would you have done if you had known it was me? Released me?" 

The Doctor remains silent. What is he supposed to say? That he doesn't know? Not even now? "I ask you to stay, to listen to me. You opted for stealing my TARDIS and for leaving me behind. You never gave me a chance," he repeats. 

The Master shrugs, a rare gesture, showing that he's just as much at a loss for words as the Doctor. And really, what is left to say? It happened and nothing can change that. "What are you sorry for?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"You said, _I'm sorry_. What for?" 

"For how everything went. Probably." 

"Probably?" 

"What do you want to hear from me? You have betrayed and tried to kill me time and time again. When we last met, you even wanted to steal my regenerations!" 

"We do what we need to survive, don't we? Certainly you will understand it. We are both survivors." 

"No. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now. But I suppose some things will never change. Not with you, no matter how many lives you live," the Doctor says, then stands up, not at all in the mood for this kind of talk. It never led to anything good in the past, and he honestly doubts that it will now. They are on the opposites of the spectrum and nothing will change this, and frankly, he's tired of it. But at least the wariness is better than the shock, the helplessness or any of the other emotions he has come to connect with the other Time Lord. 

"And so you'll just go. Where to? Especially seeing that _I_ have your TARDIS. Of course, I'd be delighted to have you as a citizen in my country. Maybe you could even work for me. Maybe as my private secretary." The Doctor stops in his movement and closes his eyes, cursing the other Time Lord inwardly. "You don't have any place to go. Nowhere other than here, with me. You have no home, not any more than I do." 

"You seem to be doing quite well, everything considered, Mister Saxon," he says, voice low and even. He plain out refuses to let the other see his emotions. The Master has played with them for too long already. 

"Maybe, but they are not our kind. Just some stupid mortals, who will fade and die. They are insignificant." 

"Yet you are here." 

"We all have our hobbies." 

"And this is not one that I have plans to share with you." 

"I don't expect you to. But it doesn't change the fact that we two are the only ones left. And can you really say that you don't miss the company of one of your own? Can those mortals you surround yourself with fill the gap? We are gods, nothing less. And we need to be around each other. Has it never occurred to you why we met so often, despite our... differences?" 

" _Differences_ is not the word I'd have used," the Doctor counters. 

"Semantics, my dear Doctor. Nothing more." 

"Something you were always very good at. Playing with words and turning them any way you like," the Doctor says and there's a note of bitterness in his voice, which he can't completely hide. "You haven't changed one bit. And you never will." 

"I quite like myself, you know." 

"And there I get accused of suffering from rampant egomania," the Doctor says, unable to hide the slight smile that suddenly creeps up. "I will refer the next person who tells me that to you. I'm sure they'll never say anything against me anymore after they've met you. At least I'm not quite convinced that I'm the best thing that has ever happened to the universe, and I'm not trying to take it over, either, starting with this lovely, little planet." 

"Who says I'm going to do that?" the Master just asks. 

"Never mind. Just tell me where my TARDIS is now, will you? Because the longer I'm here, the stronger gets the desire to stop you, and that before I even know what you have planned, which isn't really my style." 

"As I said, ask me _nicely_ ," the Master says and stands up, following the Doctor to the door. 

"Please." 

"You know what I want to hear," the Master says, voice low and a bit rough, as he stops in front of the Doctor. 

"And again something that will probably never change, will it? And there I had hoped it was just a one-time occurrence on Malcassairo, to remember old times," the Doctor says, trying to keep his voice steady. It isn't quite as easy as it should be, but considering the situation, he isn't doing too badly. 

"I'm enjoying this far too much for that, especially when it comes to you, Doctor." 

"Sometimes I think this is the only reason you gave yourself the title." He hesitates a moment, tries to postpone the inevitable, if only to aggravate the other Time Lord at least a bit. Then he smiles, his best and brightest fake smile. "Please, _Master_ , where's my TARDIS?" 

"I really like the sound of that. And so do you." 

"Just because you keep repeating something, doesn't make it true. As for me, I just want my TARDIS back." 

"Does it mean you'll do everything I want to get it back?" The Master almost purrs now and even takes a step closer, so that the Doctor can feel the other's breath ghosting over his face. 

He resists the urge to close his eyes at the unexpected intimacy. "If I were you, I really wouldn't overdo it. Now tell me, where is it?" 

**IX.**

"Oh, no, what have you done to her?" the Doctor says, running a hand over the damaged wood. Nothing that can't be fixed, but he's pretty sure that she didn't look this way when he last saw her. 

"I wasn't the one who ended up at the end of the universe. Not even our ships are made for such a distance." 

"It was quite by accident, I assure you. However, maybe you should show some appreciation at least, because without that accident you wouldn't be here now and couldn't play politician and husband." Which would probably have been much better, for everybody. 

As if having read his thoughts, the Master says, "Something you'd probably be glad about." 

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet." 

"I'm really starting to be hurt here, Doctor." 

The Doctor ignores him in favour of the TARDIS and puts his key in. The door doesn't open. "What have you done?" 

"Just an additional security aspect. In case you would stumble over it instead of coming to me. I know how resourceful you are after all." 

"Thank you, but I didn't want to disappoint you." 

"How considerate." 

"Now would you please...? Or just give me my screwdriver. You know that I wouldn't just attack you. Stabbing people in the back is your style, not mine." 

"Probably, but seeing your face when you got searched was worth it." 

"I'm always glad when I can amuse you. Thank you, _Mister Saxon_ ," he says and takes the screwdriver away from the other Time Lord. He smiles when he sees the slightly sour face. A small revenge at least. 

The inside of his TARDIS looks better than the outside, even when some of the controls are blackened. "That was your doing," the Master points out, before the Doctor can say something. "I wouldn't sabotage my own ship." 

"That is easy to say when you don't even have a ship to start with," the Doctor says, absently, while putting on his glasses. "But it can be fixed easily enough." Fortunately. "What happened to your TARDIS? Certainly it should have been somewhere near you?" 

"I didn't exactly have the chance to go looking for it, did I?" 

"No, probably not. You know what? I have a splendid idea. I will fix my TARDIS and then just drop you at Malcassairo. With some luck, you'll find your ship there. And you won't even be lonely. Now that the rocket left, the future kind will be grateful about any company they can get." 

"Could it be that this new regeneration of yours is a tad malicious, Doctor?" 

The Doctor, half hidden under the console, shrugs. "I think it depends on who is with me." The following silence is defeating and when he surfaces again, some loose wires in his hand, the Master leans against the console, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm sorry. It's just that you have the uncanny talent to bring out the worst in me," the Doctor explains, without sounding apologetic at all. 

Before the Master can answer, his phone rings. "Excuse me, Doctor," he says. "And don't leave without a goodbye. I'll be back right away." 

"I wouldn't dream of doing that," the Doctor murmurs, then vanishes under the console once more, refusing to give the other Time Lord any more thoughts. 

"Does it work?" he hears the Master's slightly bored voice after a moment. 

"Of course it will. I just need some more time." 

"Do you need any help?" 

"No, no. I just need to-- Why would you offer your help? No, don't answer that question. I don't want your help. I don't feel like being blown to pieces halfway across the universe, just because I let you help me. It wouldn't be the first time that you'd try something like that." Castrovalva comes to his mind, an illusion created by the Master just for him, to kill him. Doing something to the TARDIS would be nothing compared to that. 

"Suit yourself then. But I hope you're aware that I could have killed you already if that was my intention. Not just tried, but probably succeeded as well?" 

"You tried it already when we met again. Who says you won't do it again?" 

"And that's why you turn your back on me so willingly? There are quite a few accidents that can happen with a TARDIS, especially a damaged one, but you certainly know that." 

"The thing is," the Doctor says, for the moment ignoring the lever he was testing, and turning around to face the Master, "as long as you're here with me, you can't harm anyone." 

"So that's it," the Master says and laughs. "You really don't trust me at all." 

"I don't have a reason to do so, do I?" Not anymore, not for a long time and probably never again, he thinks, taking off his glasses and putting them away. 

"I don't expect you to. It's not important, not for this here," he hears the Master saying and before he can even really process the words, the other Time Lord is in front of him, invading once more his space. The Doctor doesn't retreat. Escape is not an option, not with the console at his back. 

"Your little humans love you, you know. Both of them. They are completely taken and besotted with the mighty Time Lord. But you always had a way with humans. Not that it is very difficult to impress them. One flight to another planet and they'll eat out of your hands." 

The Doctor straightens up, tries to put a bit more space between them. "Speaking from experience?" he asks. "Is that how you convinced your wife? " 

"That wasn't necessary. I have other methods. It was far easier that way and I don't think my wife would appreciate it. She isn't the type for space travel. You need intelligent, beautiful, yet quite normal partners if you want to advance in this business." 

"That doesn't sound like you at all," the Doctor says, only too aware of the closeness and of the other's piercing gaze. "Then again, nothing of this does, does it? The trying to kill me yes, I'm used to it by now. But usually you just run off when I actually do something to stop you and then I don't get to see you anymore until your next big master plan is ready to be launched." 

"I couldn't disappoint you, could I? And I needed to make sure that I could keep your attention." 

The Doctor snorts. "Don't give me that," he says, then shakes his head, breaking the rather unsettling eye contact. "This was never about me. It was always only about you. From the first day on. You tried to kill me, because I didn't fit into your plans." 

"That's not entirely true. I offered to let you join me. You refused. And then you always tried to stop me." 

"Of course, I refused! Unlike you, I was never interested in dominating anything, least of all the whole universe. I just wanted to explore it. I told you that, more than once. You were the one who kept coming after me and so forced me to interfere. And that was only when you didn't try to kill me right away. Or do you want to say that the last time was an accident, when you were more than willing to kill me to get my regenerations?" 

Like most events concerning the Master, he remembers that one only too vividly. Nothing like the sensation of getting your lives ripped out of you and that by the one person, no _Time Lord_ , you felt closest to, despite everything that happened. It had been the last stroke. The end of everything. 

"No, it wasn't. I was a bit... desperate. Didn't do me much good, though, did it? I burned in your TARDIS." 

"Yet you're still here. Your talent to survive in even the most deadly situations is indeed unrivalled. How did you survive the time war and end up at the end of the universe?" the Doctor changes the topic. Talking about that should be much easier. 

"Just the usual." The Master shrugs. "Got forcefully revived by the Time Lords, decided that I didn't like their plans for me and ran. Just at the right time, it seems. Otherwise you'd indeed be the last of the Time Lords now. Though, you haven't done so badly. At least you weren't stuck at the end of the universe for years." 

"No, I wasn't," the Doctor says simply. There's a lot more he wants to say -- like how lonely he has felt, how torn apart inside, and how much and how often he has been scared of himself since it all happened, and how a part of him is glad that he isn't alone after all (yet scared for the same reasons) -- but this is not the right time, nor is the Master the right person to talk to about that. Instead he turns around again to his levers and buttons and wires, because they are at least constant and not dangerous. 

He hasn't even finished the thought, when blue sparks emit from the accelerator. "Damn!" he curses under his breath, then, frustrated, throws the screwdriver onto the console. When he turns around, the Master is still standing there, that smug grin on his face. It's more than the Doctor can take for the moment. "Just what do you want from me?" he asks. "I'm sure, you have other things to do than watching me trying to fix my ship. How about, well, just go hypnotize somebody, write a speech, try to win your election or... I don't know, there must be _something_ you can do, apart from annoying me and musing about the past!" Which is one and the same anyway, as far as the Doctor is concerned at the moment. 

"Actually, there's one last thing I want." 

"What?" 

"Nothing big, not when you really meant it. If this all really doesn't affect you, if you would indeed rather see me dead, then open your mind to me and prove it. Let me see the truth." 

The Doctor looks at him for a moment, stunned. "You are out of your mind! I will certainly not do that. You are the very last person I'd let into my mind." He feels panic welling up, cold and hard, grabbing him, threatening to choke him. Not that he would ever let the Master see _that_. Not any more than his mind. There's no way he would, could, do either. It's too dangerous. Like in the past. 

"And why not? Afterwards you can take your TARDIS and your companions and go wherever you want. I won't bother you anymore, as long as you don't interfere with my plans." 

The Doctor shakes his head. "Seeing that your plans are most likely something that will cause people to suffer, I will have to interfere at some point. So your offer doesn't mean anything." 

"Then make a different offer, Doctor. I'm listening." 

"Why are you so keen on that?" 

"Call it curiosity. Or maybe for old times' sake." 

It's not fair, and the Master knows it. Either he would refuse his offers, or... in any case, this here couldn't end well. Yet, he has to try, has to negotiate for the people of earth, who couldn’t defend themselves, not against someone like the Master. He has to fight for Martha, for Jack, for Sarah-Jane, and for everybody else here. 

"All right," he breaks the silence after a moment. "Leave this planet and don't ever return. I will take you wherever you want. I will even help you to get your TARDIS back. We can play your game again and fight across the universe if that's what you want, but you'll leave this planet alone. And that is the only offer I'm going to make. Take it or refuse it, it's your choice." 

And with that he returns to the console, tries to fix things, without even really realizing what he's doing, while he waits. There's a part of him that _hopes_ that the Master will refuse, because what he wants is just too intimate and intimidating for him to even consider it. Yet another part of him knows that it might be the only way to get him away from Earth, to fix what he himself did wrong, first when he took care of Harriet Jones and so opened the door for the Master, then again on Malcassairo when he failed to recognize the Master right away, and maybe already a long time ago, when it came to them. 

"I accept." 

"What?" he asks, stunned. It couldn't be, just _couldn't_. It is too easy, yet so impossibly hard. His thoughts are racing while his mind is curiously blank, a condition he experienced last when he realized that Gallifrey was gone. 

"I said, yes. I accepted your offer." 

"You can't be serious!" 

"Isn't that what you wanted?" 

The Doctor has no doubt that the Master knows exactly how he feels about it and why he's doing it. "It's what _you_ wanted. I just --" 

"You just found another way to save your precious humans." 

The Doctor frowns. "Something like that, yes." 

"But if I have to give up my very promising career, make it at least worth it," the Master says, smirking, and that is just about more than the Doctor can take. He crosses the little space that separates them and comes to hold in front of the Master. 

"You want to know what I feel and think? Really?" he asks, voice low and cold and unyielding, and then he just acts on instinct. He frames the Master's face with his hands and pulls him close. Their eyes lock, the Doctor's gaze furious and tired at once, the Master's mostly curious. "Be careful what you wish for, _Master_ ," he says, then leans forward, resting his forehead against the Master's and wills himself to drop the shields, to open himself completely. 

It isn't as easy as it should be, because a part of him rebels at the thought of opening himself to the Master of all people, to make himself so vulnerable after everything that happened between them. 

In the end, he doesn't wait for the Master to search through his mind, but forces his thoughts and emotions, his fears and the darkness, his hopes and his desires, even the memories he has usually locked up because he just can't allow himself to dwell on them, to spill over. All but shoves them in front of the other Time Lord, for him to see and feel each and every one of them, including the pain and the betrayal, the disgust and just everything he ever felt in connection with him. 

The Doctor can't suppress a shudder when he feels the Master enter his mind, not probing, just a presence that takes in for the time being, absorbing what he offers willingly (which is almost everything, maybe even too much). 

He feels tears welling up as he sinks into the sea of emotions, as he re-feels them and lives through them again. It makes him angrier than the rest of the situation. After all, he can't help his feelings, but there is no reason to make a bad situation even worse by giving the Master even more ammunition against him. 

It takes all his willpower to get his emotions so far back under control, that he doesn't lash out and just enters the other's mind when he feels the Master moving around his. The act is far too personal for him to want to do it now, when he's so angry and hurt and vulnerable and just wants to act on these emotions. And he doesn't want to know what the other is thinking and feeling anyway, doesn't want to be pulled into his darkness and drown in it, doesn't want to see how the Master twisted everything that happened to make it fit to his unique perception. 

So he stays still and allows the intrusion, lets the Master see whatever he wants to see and reminds himself that it is all for the greater good. If he can do this here, this planet will be safe and Great Britain will get another chance and just maybe they won't screw it up this time. 

A shudder goes through his body when he feels the Master retreating, slowly, as if he wants to savour every moment of his victory. And it's nothing less than that. He might not get to be Prime Minister, but he got another chance to get to know the Doctor inside out, against his protests. It's worth it, the Doctor tells himself. Even the humiliation is a small sacrifice considering what is at stake. 

When he opens his eyes, the Master looks at him, his eyes burning, but there's none of the mockery the Doctor has half expected. "Satisfied?" he asks, voice emotionless, if not quite as steady as he would have wished for. 

He feels drained, almost empty when he lets go of the other Time Lord and leans against the console for support. He's light-headed and doesn't really feel like himself. Then again, when has he last felt like himself? Somewhere between taking off in Cardiff and ending up at the end of the universe, he thinks, before his whole world decided to come crashing down on him. 

The Master nods. 

"Good, then it's your turn now. I should be done here in a few days, two, maybe three. Enough time for you to wrap up everything and to decide where you want to go," he says, wearily. It should also give him enough time to talk to Jack and Martha. Or maybe he won't; maybe he'll just leave a note and then move on. They both deserve more, but he just doesn't have anything to give anymore. 

The Doctor takes the screwdriver and makes move to turn around to focus on the console once more, but before he can do it, the Master grabs his arms. "Why didn’t you tell me?" 

"Because you weren't exactly in the mood to talk after your grand return? I asked you to listen," the Doctor defends himself. 

"The last of the Time Lords." 

The Doctor nods. 

"Do you miss them?" 

"It was our home." And he couldn't do a single thing to save them or even to change something. 

"I missed you, you know, Doctor?" 

"You didn't give that impression on Malcassairo when--" Before he can finish the sentence, the Master moves forward again and presses his lips against the Doctor's. Just light, but _there_ , familiar and unfamiliar, all at once. The Doctor resists the temptation to close his eyes and to just give in. Instead he lifts his hands to push the other Time Lord away. 

"None of your games, not today, Master," he says. There's a pleading tone in his voice, but he can't help it. He's worn out and doesn't want to fight anymore. And maybe it doesn't matter much anymore anyway, not after he has laid bare so much of himself today already. 

"I like it when you say my name," the other murmurs, gently stroking his face with a thumb, making him shiver. And then there's a hand on his cheek and the Doctor finds himself leaning into the touch, which is cool and so very non-human. It feels like home and he can't help but yearn for more. "Say it again," a low, not quite order and the Doctor finds himself closing his eyes for a moment. 

"Master," he says, voice not much more than a breathed whisper and when he feels the lips ghosting over his face, it feels almost right, like in the past, when it was just them, before they'd left Gallifrey and everything started to go downhill. 

"Perfect, Doctor. I don't think I will ever get tired of hearing it," the Master says and frames his face with both hands. "Look at me." 

The Master's gaze is intense and piercing and the Doctor thinks he can see his own emotions reflected in them, his own desire not to be alone anymore, maybe even more. "No more games. Not today at least," he says and he hopes that it will be enough, because he feels like falling and maybe it's too late for him to stop the collision, but he doesn't want to fall alone at least. 

"Ask nicely, Doctor, " the other Time Lord demands, and there's the smug grin again. 

He sighs in exasperation, but there's also a slight smile. "Please, no more games, _Master_." 

"I think I can manage that," the Master says, his voice a low rumble. "Just for you, Doctor." 

"You're too considerate," the Doctor murmurs against the other's lips. "But it won't change anything. You'll leave here." 

"As agreed. With you." 

"Yes, with me," the Doctor says. It doesn't sound that bad anymore, he notices. Certainly not anymore when they kiss and he feels the cool touch of the Master's hands against his skin, once the far too many layers of clothes are finally gone, spread throughout the TARDIS, and he can hear the steady rhythm of the two heartbeats against his own body. 

The Doctor isn't naïve enough to believe that this means that everything will go well from now on, certainly not with their history, but for the moment it is fine. Earth will be safe in a few days and for the time being the last two of their kind aren't alone anymore. 

**X.**

"Doctor? Are you here?" He startles out of sleep, for a moment confused by the fact that he is pressed close to another body. He needs a moment to orientate himself and to identify the voice. 

"Martha? What is she doing here? How does she know I'm here?" he says, untangling himself from the arms around him, then jumping out of the bed. 

"Just ignore her," the Master says. 

"I can't. What if --" 

"Are you sure the Doctor is here?" he hears a second voice. 

Jack! 

"Damn!" the Doctor curses under his breath. 

"Well, his clothes are at least. I don't think he'd go anywhere without them," Martha replies, clearly confused. 

"And not just the Doctor's," Jack says and the Doctor can just imagine his expression. There's silence for a moment, then Jack adds, "Maybe we should just return later." 

With a groan, the Doctor lets himself fall back onto the bed. Then he sits up again and looks sharply at the Master, who tries hard to suppress a laugh. "That is your doing, isn't it?" 

"Well, she called the office when we were here, asking for you. I just I told my secretary where she could find you..." 

"I thought we wouldn't play any games. You promised!" 

"That was before my promise. How should I have known what would happen? I just wanted to be helpful. To show you how cooperative I can be." 

"Because you are just the embodiment of cooperation and concern," the Doctor says. 

"I keep that particular trait deeply hidden. I have a reputation to keep up after all. You can count yourself lucky that I showed it to you." 

"You're _mad_." 

"And you first realise that now? Shows how much attention you paid to me. I should be hurt. But let me tell you - a certain amount of insanity is just the way to go," the Master says and the Doctor can hear the grin in his voice. 

"Yeah, I can see that." 

"You don't sound too convinced," the Master says and sits up, moving behind him and wrapping his arms around him. The Doctor can't suppress a low growl when the other Time Lord delivers a bite to his neck. 

"I should go out there, talk to them." 

"Oh yes, welcome them the way you are now. I'm sure they'd both appreciate the view," he suggests. "To complete the image, I could even join you. It would be interesting to see how they'd take _that_. If they don't suspect it already, because your little pets aren't exactly stupid. Well, not stupid within the limitations of their species, I should say." 

"Certainly not!" the Doctor hisses in an attempt to keep his voice down, then sighs in contentment when the Master starts to massage his shoulders. 

"You should learn to have more fun. But it doesn't matter; they seem to be gone anyway." 

The Master is right. There is no sound anymore. The Doctor resists the urge to breathe a sigh of relief, but relaxes again and leans back against the other Time Lord, relishing the contact more than he could possible say. 

Tomorrow he will talk to Martha, try to explain everything to the two of them. Alone, without the distraction the Master is so willing to provide and without the possibility of being interrupted. Maybe they would even understand. 

And today... today he just wants to stay here and make the moment last, wants to experience with his best enemy how it feels not to be alone anymore. 

**-.-.-The End-.-.-**


End file.
